


The Package

by Affectiion



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathtubs, F/F, F/M, Multi, Through the Veil, Velaris (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29173971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Affectiion/pseuds/Affectiion
Summary: It had been an age since she’d fallen through the Veil.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Rhysand, Hermione Granger/Rhysand/Feyre
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Haven Awards Writing Comp





	The Package

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my marvellous Beta (Full credit to be given post-awards) and to the wonderful HavenAwards mods :)

It had been an age since she’d fallen through the Veil. Despite the constant ache of how she missed her friends and family back in the United Kingdom, Velaris was definitely home now. The lights of the city, bustling despite the lateness of the evening, were a balm to her soul. She couldn’t imagine anywhere she’d rather be. The people of Velaris were unlike any she’d ever encountered before, and her friends here knew her more thoroughly than those she’d left behind. Still, she did at times wonder ‘what if?’ and tried to imagine Harry and Ron, and what they were doing with their lives, without her. Since her fall through the Veil - yes, the same Veil that Sirius had fallen through years before - she’d made a life for herself, and enjoyed it, despite it not being the life she thought she’d have. 

Hermione gazed from the balcony of the home she shared with her friends of the Night Court. From her chair, books stacked haphazardly on the ground around her, she moved to stand, leaning against the wrought iron balustrade. She had had the opportunity to read and learn more than ever before in her life - her time in Velaris was more valuable than anything she could imagine, despite her homesickness. She played her eyes over the pale lights of the city below her, allowing her thoughts to drift back to her friends and family on the other side of the Veil. 

Warm hands slid around her waist and a handsome man rested his head upon her shoulder. “Admiring the view, my dove?” he asked, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. Rhysand cuddled into her gently, as though he wasn’t carefully listening to her thoughts, his concern for her rising. She didn’t often speak of her life before she’d arrived in the Night Court, and hardly spoke about those from her home on the other side of the Veil, except for the context of finding the other who had travelled through the Veil’s doorway. Over the last five years, it was this time, only this time, the anniversary of her arrival to his Court, that she closed down and allowed herself to mourn her lost life. 

“Just thinking,” she tilted her neck, allowing him better access. He could have admitted to reading her mind, or prying a little more deeply, but November had always been hard for her. He didn’t like to push her to speak of her concerns, and while she knew he could focus on her thoughts, she pretended he couldn’t when it suited her. And when it came to her feelings, she certainly pretended thus. She turned in his arms, snuggling her face into his chest. “Feyre on her way back?”

“She and Mor are about two hours out. They will drop the... package... off with Cassian, and our Feyre has promised to return to our bed forthwith.” Rhysand squeezed Hermione a little tighter, before cracking a grin. “And I have promised that we shall be ready for her return.” He ran a hot line up her neck with his tongue, enjoying the minute shiver that ran through her body. “And by we, I do, of course, mean you, my dove.”

Hermione snorted. “That’s because you’re always ready!” 

Rhys pressed a hot kiss to her lips in agreement, “In fairness, Hermione darling, so are you.”

He began whispering a commentary of Feyre’s desires into her ear, admiring how quickly Hermione crumbled into a needy, wanting mess. “Rhys,” she groaned. Her body melted closer into his, her fingernails digging into his muscular arms. He could hear the thoughts racing in her head as they switched gears, momentarily forgetting her sorrow and becoming a little more explicit in detail. He admired the vivid scenarios in her head, monitoring them for the ones that intrigued her the most. He did love making his bedpartners happy. 

He also had a feeling that this might be one of the last times he had the opportunity to bed the beautiful woman in front of him. 

And with that disappointing thought, he winnowed Hermione into their shared bedroom. Winnowing, the Illyrian version of apparition, certainly had some benefits, Hermione mused as Rhysand held her closely. Dropping her unceremoniously on the bed, he instructed her to remove her clothes and prepare for a bath before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Hermione stripped without hesitating, sending her clothes to the laundry with a wave of her hand. Since coming to Velaris, her non-verbal and wandless magic had come on in leaps and bounds. She’d had a huge burst in power, which she assumed had come through the natural magic in the air, or through her rapid trip through the Veil. Tying her hair into a ponytail with the band she kept on her wrist for such occasions, her mind, now less occupied with Rhys’s dirty talk, turned to wonder where Sirius might be. Hermione’s research into his disappearance had been what led her to falling through the Veil. She had found a mention of the Veil in one of the old books found at Grimmauld Place that had led her to believe that it was not sending someone to their death, but to a parallel universe or some such thing. There had been reports hundreds of years ago that perhaps the first Veela or Vampire had come through the Veil to London and had been unable to return. 

Had the Veil always travelled to this place, Sirius really shouldn’t be far. She’d searched for so long, though, that she’d begun to think maybe the Veil had not always led here. Of course, there were so many variables; for example, did time move at the same pace on both sides of the Veil? Was everyone dropped at the same point in the Night Court? Her breath caught in her throat as she came back to the thought that haunted her:  _ Did everyone survive the journey?  _ Harry would be devastated if -

“I can hear you thinking, my dove,” Rhys drawled from the doorway. “And you’re very, very off-topic.” Hermione looked at him, feeling the pull of her body towards him. He’d stripped and was standing utterly still, naked, tattoos shining in the light. Hermione drew herself to kneel on the bed, admiring the fine details decorating his arms and muscular chest. She ran her eyes down his body, flushing as they skated over his most intimate places, before resting on the tattooed mountains. Once, he’d explained their meaning, that he’d bow to no one and nothing but his crown and Feyre, before taking her to heights that demonstrated that although his love for Feyre was immense, his fondness for Hermione was not lacking. 

His massive wings settled behind him, his tan skin almost glistening in the warmth of the night. 

“My dove,” he grinned. She was back on topic now. He’d always loved the way her body reacted to him and was glad that if nothing else, he could ease her mind for a time. He winnowed to the base of the bed, drawing her to her feet and pulling her playfully into the bathroom with him. He’d run a deep bath, candles were lit and he’d scattered the petals of black roses in the water, their perfume filling the air. 

The two slipped into the bath together, running the washcloth he’d set out over each other gently. Eventually, Hermione laid her back against his chest, running her fingers absently through the water. She felt much better now, calmer. Her thoughts had stopped racing, and she felt the gentle hum in her mind that meant he was helping her relax, helping her thoughts travel along smoother waters. She felt his body tense slightly, a signal that she knew meant he was communicating with Feyre telepathically - she must have returned to their shared home. The strength of Rhys and Feyre’s shared telepathy had awed her when she’d first encountered it, then, later, she’d worked her way through jealousy and envy before becoming accustomed to it. Rhys had not been subtle when he told her her destiny was entwined with another, and he and Feyre were a pleasurable way station until her mate arrived. 

She’d thought it a very poetic brushoff at the time, but after living in Velaris for so long, she understood that he truly believed that finding her mate was inevitable. He reminded her often. She was doubtful, but happy enough with her arrangement with the High Lord and Lady of the Court. She knew it wouldn’t last forever, but it would be lovely while it did. 

Speaking of the Lady of the Court, Feyre entered the room as naked as they and slipped herself into the bath, kneeling over Hermione’s lap and greeting her with a fevered kiss. “I’ve missed you, my darling,” Feyre murmured to Hermione, before leaning over Hermione to greet her husband equally. This positioned her breasts in Hermione’s face, and Hermione did not waste the opportunity, greeting each with fervour. Feyre gasped, pulling back from kissing Rhys to watch Hermione for a brief moment. “Oh, yes, I missed you immensely.” Feyre gripped Hermione’s hair firmly, returning to kiss Rhys with increasing passion. 

Later, as they caught their breath, entangled on their master bed, Feyre ran her fingers down Hermione’s back. “Did you know, our dove, that it has now been five years since you came to us?” 

Hermione, caught between the Lady and Lord, snuggled her head further into Feyre’s shoulder. “Mmmm,” she agreed. “I was thinking about it earlier.” She began to doze, surrounded by warmth and affection. Rhys placed his large hand on her back, stilling Feyre’s. 

As she fell asleep, she heard, “Leave it, my love, we’ll tell her in the morning.” 

As the sun rose in the Night Court, Hermione woke in an oddly empty bed. Since she had come to live with Rhys and Feyre, they had always woken together. 

She dressed and wandered to the kitchen, finding Feyre and Rhys preparing breakfast. Feyre greeted her with a kiss and placed her favourite breakfast foods in front of her. She noticed Rhys shoot Feyre a look and tilt of the head, and Feyre sat next to Hermione, rather than across from her as usual. Her discomfort grew as Rhys took a seat next to Feyre. She pushed her plate away, no longer hungry. 

“My dove,” Rhys began. Hermione stilled her shaking hands. A vase began to wobble on the shelf. 

“We have a gift for you.” He took her hands in his large ones, holding them still. “This is a good thing, my sweet.”

Hermione took a deep breath, then another. The vase stilled. 

“We have found your Sirius Black,” Feyre told her, eyes bright. 

The vase exploded. 

Hermione was dressed and ready to travel within half an hour. Sirius was the package that Rhys had referred to the night before. He had been made comfortable in Cassian’s home- temporarily, Feyre had stressed. He’d made a life for himself, just as Hermione had, and would want to return to it. 

Feyre and Rhys had winnowed Hermione to Cassian’s home, allowing her a moment to compose herself before leading her into a large, open room where Sirius was seated by a window. She froze in the doorway, breath caught in her throat.  _ Breathe, my dove _ Rhys commanded in her head, and she took a series of deep breaths before moving to kneel at Sirius’s feet. “Sirius,” his name came out on a sob. 

It was Sirius, but not as she knew him. He had aged so, so much. He was clearly close to one hundred, if not older. His hair, once as black as night, was now grey, and the laugh lines around his eyes had extended into a series of wrinkles. His eyes still twinkled but were weary. She held his hands and pressed her face to them. “Little Hermione Granger. Never thought I’d see you again!” his voice belied his age- he still sounded as she remembered - full of laughter and life. 

She pulled herself together and waved a chair over, silently casting  _ accio _ . “I’m surprised you remember me at all! I was only, what, 13? 14? When we met so briefly.” She drew her knees to her chest, cuddling into the chair. “I’d hoped I’d find you, but had no idea if it would be possible. So much is unknown about the Veil.”

Sirius leaned back in his own chair, wincing as his bones creaked. “Well, I do remember you as significantly younger, love. But you still have the same hair.”

They spent hours catching up, Hermione telling him everything about Harry that she could remember. He listened, tears in his eyes, asking for minute details Hermione hadn’t thought about in years. 

They laughed and cried together, and when Feyre placed an assortment of food on a nearby table for the two, she was glad to see that this experience was as cathartic for Hermione as she’d hoped. 

Sirius and Hermione were deaf to the rest of the room as Sirius told Hermione about how he’d made his way in the Night Court, and how he’d found a lovely elf to be his wife, they’d had children who were now grown, and he now lived quietly in a community far from Valaris. 

They had joined the others for a casual dinner, enjoying the camaraderie of the larger group - Feyre, Rhys, Morrigan, Amren and Cassian had settled in for the evening, explaining that they’d all stay the night and Cassian would fly Sirius home the next day. Sirius and Hermione debated the reasons that apparition didn’t work in this world, but could not come to an agreement. It didn’t matter the reason anyway- the fact they couldn’t was a pain, and meant that Sirius and Hermione wouldn’t be able to visit each other as much as they’d like. 

After dinner they all retired for the evening, Hermione joining Feyre and Rhys in one of the massive spare rooms Cassian had renovated into his home. “Thank you,” Hermione hugged each of them, tears in her eyes. “I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I can think of a way or two you could thank us,” Rhys grinned and drew her in for a kiss. Feyre, now sitting in the middle of the bed agreed. “Or three or four.” She held her hands out to the others. 

Hermione cast some industrial-strength silencing charms on the room and joined the High Lord and Lady on the bed, resolving to spend the rest of the night demonstrating her appreciation. 

  
  



End file.
